


Beware the Dull-Eyed Witch

by KaT_John_Adams



Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaT_John_Adams/pseuds/KaT_John_Adams
Summary: Inspired by this post: https://elsewhereuniversity.tumblr.com/post/168804701197/beware-the-dull-eyed-witch
Kudos: 6





	Beware the Dull-Eyed Witch

Smoke sighed into her text book. She was a witch, dammit. Chemistry was good and enjoyable and all but Biochemistry was like some evil version of magics and science with a side helping of sadism for flavor. She could have done well without taking this course, but it was a requirement. so, fine. She’d finish this and damned if she wouldn’t at least get in an 80%.

A cough at her door warranted a slight twitch above her weary eyes and she _flicked_ a small bead at the backboard of her desk, ricocheting it towards the entry to her room at speed. A sharp little _crack_ told her it’d hit the cinderblock wall next to the portal quite nicely.

“Ah,” her boyfriend chuckled, “I take it finals are not kind to you?”

Smoke glared at him. “Says the one who’s taking a major he’s already an expert in.”

The magician held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair. But I had to study the old fashioned way. Can’t you use that real mojo and make it happen?”

She reached over and rapt his knee with her pencil. “It’s not mojo. You know better than to use terms not mine. And no, I can’t use magics to make this work. I’m a witch, not an alchemist.”

Rote shrugged. “I still don’t fully get the differences-real magic is real magic, whatever you call it.”

The witch sighed and put her pencil down. Clearly, Rote was intent on annoying her today. “That’s like saying that Algebra and quantum physics are the same because math is math. They hold similar foundations, yes, but they’re different disciplines nonetheless. I perform a form of european magic via some un-fucked new age bullshit for flavoring. I don’t perform Vodoun because they’re both magics, but we work from different backgrounds, intents, and energies. We’re magics, but different kinds and it’s not acceptable to just swap terms and practices.”

Rote shrugged again and Smoke found herself trying to remember that this same easy-going silliness attracted her to him in the first place. She’d probably still be charmed if it wasn’t thrice damned finals week. The bags under her darkening eyes felt like cement and she’d replaced most of her blood with caffeine at this point. And since he already was well advanced of anyone else in junior year in terms of mathematics (honestly, his attendance was more for show than anything-he could have had his degree but he was, well, enjoying being a lazy college student and who could blame him?), Rote had no need of studying. Ever.

And Smoke found that endlessly irritating.

Of course, she’d have dressed him down a bit more thoroughly on cultural appropriation in magic and the responsibility of western witches in minding their practice except her door slammed open.

A terrified and out-of-breath Honeysuckle leaned on the door frame. “Smoke; we need some help. It’s Jules.”

The witch grabbed her bag and indicated Rote to follow with a chin thrust. He hopped to his feet and closed the door behind them as they followed Honey upstairs. The smell of sage and camphor was appallingly strong. She turned to look into a room with some sort of magic circle drawn on the floor in chalk and a bundle of sage and camphor that Jules had apparently put into a small iron cauldron to smolder and smoke. She’d covered the smoke alarm with a plastic bag. but others were sure to go off had the RA not had everyone close their doors.

Jules’ roomate, Lyrics, held her in her lap, her body unresponsive and quiet. Smoke memorized the magic circle design and set down her bag, ready for the worst. “What was she doing, Lyrics?”

The girl shook her head. “She said she needed to ward the room. It was something she’d been reading and she’d been having a hard time. There’s been something following her on campus and she got worried.”

Smoke nodded, and lifted one of Jules’ eyelids, then the other. She walked over to the girl’s desk, and glanced at the book. It was mostly new age trash but with some good groundings. Some designs, herbs and a prescription bottle of _Lamotrigine_. “Lyrics, is this hers?”

The other girl nodded. “Yeah, she takes it like, everywhere.”

The witch pinched the bridge of her nose and walked to the window, opening it wide. “Move her to another room, on a bed. Get the campus medics here. Sage and Camphor, especially this strong, can trigger a reaction. If the medics clear her, she’s fine. But this is medical, not magical.” The room seemed to relax and everyone began moving and talking and doing. A few thanked her and she waved them off, slumping back down to her room. 

The door clicked shut as she slid into her chair, staring at her text book in irritation. Rote chuckled and was about to speak when another person knocked on her door. Smoke grabbed a small black sachel from her desk, preparing to throw it at the door but Rote held up his hands. “Whoa!” He grinned, slightly nervous. “Let’s see who it is before you do… whatever.” Her boyfriend, and she kept reminding herself he was, carefully opened the door. He froze for a moment and looked over his shoulder at her. She nodded and he opened the door wide. 

In the hall stood a frog, about six foot tall, dressed in a rather well-fit two-piece suit. Smoke glared. She was not interested.

“I have a message you may find interesting,” the frog began.

The witch sighed. “One minute to talk, that’s it. Go.”

The emissary nodded. “A prince within the Court offers you a boon if you create a charm to let him ignore the wards you have placed around the dining hall. He would be very grateful.”

Smoke glowered. She knew who this was, and he was why those wards had been placed. She lightly tossed the satchel in her hand to the frog, who caught it with ease. “Give him that, tell him to sleep with it under his pillow. If he doesn’t sleep, tell him to do it anyway. now get out of my dorm, little frog, or I’ll turn you into a prince.”

The frog gulped, knowing this was not the sort of prince he’d like to be, bowed, and left quickly.

Rote chuckled and closed the door. “Dare I ask?”

She snorted. “He’ll find himself having nightmares, asleep or not. I shouldn’t have done that, but I really am tired of being harassed while I’m trying to study.” She pointedly placed her hand on the textbook and Rote’s eyebrows arched. 

“Ah, I’ll let you get to studying, then.” He walked over and kissed the top of her head. “Can I bring you a coffee and some donuts?”

Smoke smiled at him. “That’d be magical.”


End file.
